The Midnight Bell
by ILoveYouDearly
Summary: It was that muggy July night when Claire was three, after their conversation had gone the same way, the same words had been spoken, and the same smile had crossed Quil's lips, that Sam had explained something that the boy would never be allowed to forget.
1. Pieces of a Promise

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns all her respected characters and plotlines. I am making no money, and have no money, therefore any suing would not be beneficial.

Authors Note: Breaking Dawn does not exist in my mind.

That book failed so hard I still have no words.

Thus, any character involved in this fan fiction does not have any ties attached to the world that was created around them in the final installment.

Just imagine this as an extension of Eclipse, centered around Quil, the pack including Jacob, and Claire if you will.

Also, this is my fanfiction, and though characters will be kept in character to the best of my ability, some things are tweaked to the fit the plotline. Thank you!

* * *

"Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love."

-William Shakespeare

* * *

The Midnight Bell

Chapter One: Pieces of a Promise

**The Fifth Year**

Sam had never used the power of Alpha on him before.

So the surprise lightened his face before his brows furrowed, masking his eyes in shadow when he felt his joints set in concrete before they were set aflame, the dull burn making his knees, his fingers, his shoulders, everything ache. If anything Quil hated feeling caged, without movement or power, and a growl radiated from his chest, low enough that Claire was undisturbed, but loud enough that Sam with his heightened hearing would catch the sound like something close to thunder.

"Get up," he demanded again, in that echoing way that made him rise involuntarily from the window seat, his blood-rank straining to keep the boy's movement's even despite the fact every molecule in his body wanted to jump the width of Claire's bed, and slam Sam into the far wall, head first, preferably with a few choice words spat in his ugly face.

There was often a time that Sam had come padding to Claire's bedroom door, with a sheepish smile and no shirt, asking that Quil to go and sleep himself. "Do you want to turn into Jacob?" Sam would almost always ask, cocking a brow at him when the boy would only laugh. When, in explanation, Quil would remind Sam that he'd not willing left Emily for a night since the imprinting, so how could be honestly expect _him _to?

It was that muggy July night when Claire was three, after their conversation had gone the same way, the same words had been spoken, and the same smile had crossed Quil's lips, when Sam had explained something that the boy would never be allowed to forget.

When Sam had approached the door only moments before, Quil had known it was different, that the time had come - however, so unexpectedly soon.

"Get out."

It was still only two words, barked in that same whisper, but their meaning was different on Quil's shoulders, it weighed heavier, and made his heart pound twice as quickly in chest. Anger rose in his blood, pushing up and filling his capillaries in molten fire. He felt his face flush, felt his fingers twitch, and hated the way his voice sounded - so weak and fragile compared to the front he was putting on - when he whispered.

"You said I had until she was seven."

The promise echoed in the room but Sam did not cave. His posture only tightened, and his eyes narrowed, he seemed huge compared to the doorframe and moonscape painted on Claire's walls, but it didn't frighten Quil the way his leader had probably intended, it only made him angrier.

_Oh shit. _

He felt it then, felt his body start phasing, and instantly he panicked. He exhaled sharply through his nose and forced such control over his body that it hurt. Sam's eyes widened a fraction.

"I said _get out_, Quil."

This time he listened.

"Cover her_,_" the boy choked, his voice expanding and deepening at the vowels, a soft humming starting in his chest. He began to forget what it was like to think, to hurt, to be mauled by such feeble, silly, human emotions. But even with the animal coming out, he wanted to lean down, to kiss Claire on the forehead; to give her a better good-bye then the crash that suddenly resounded in her room, glass shattering, startling the girl from her sleep in the moment that Sam pounced on her, pulling her to his chest, cradling, protecting her.

Just as Quil had swore he would.

The loose fitting jeans and old rocker t-shirt he had borrowed from Paul ripped at the seams the moment his bare-feet touched the grass outside of Emily's house. He was off running, on all fours, feeling the human-like qualities he lived by daily slip and take vacancy somewhere away from his conscious thoughts. He wanted to be completely free, to take up residence in his wolf-body for the rest of existence, but like that humid night when Sam had made ugly truth conspired by he, Emily and Claire's parents known, he found that it was impossible for him. When he had tried to run before, when instinct took over, he had found himself on Emily's doorstep, panting and growling.

The link between he and Claire, not even the animal could deny it.

His paws left marks in the trail leading from La Push and into the forest, he knew better than to have taken this route, but any hell he got from Sam wouldn't compare to the aching he felt right now. Quil had only been half-joking when he'd promised Sam the only way he'd keep him from Claire would be by forcing him, with the voice of Alpha. He hadn't exactly expected him to use the power so willingly, without a single muscle out of place, to show any kind of sympathy, any kind of remorse. If anyone, didn't his leader know how much pain there was? How much pain there _could be_? Fuck, Sam had scratched a pretty nice chunk out of Emily's face and **he** didn't have to -

Quil suddenly couldn't breathe. And shit, was he _flying_?

_"You're still just a little kid, aren't you?" _

The body that had slammed into him circled around as Quil when he fell hard on his back, rocking onto his side, huge chest trembling as he fought the urge to gasp. A russet colored wolf bristled and bared fangs.

_"Wake the fuck up, Quil." _

_"What the hell do you know?" _it sounded more like a growl than words, even mentally. He stood upright, swaying for a moment, joints threatening to buckle under the enormous weight of his body. Training had brought Quil to nearly the size of his current rival, but he still didn't emanate the strength or boldness that Jacob did.

_"More than you, pussy-cat."_

A tongue rolled out of Quil's mouth and he panted as the forest spun for a long, seemingly unending moment. He and Jacob had sparred before, played when they were first turned and knocked down more than half of the trees in the forest surrounding La Push, but never once had he been hit so hard.

_"So Sam kicked you out, tough shit. But running away your with tail between your legs is admitting defeat, like some scared little kitty." _

Quil lunged at Jacob, teeth bared, and the russet wolf accepted the challenge, lunging too, and midair they clashed, biting at faces or throats, paws frantically scratching at the opponents underbelly and sides. Jacob knocked Quil off balance with a heavy swipe to his belly and blood slowly seeped through his fur. Howling, the boy caught his balance backed off, head low to the ground, teeth still bared.

_"You ran," _Quil taunted weakly, cringing mentally in pain, as he shifted back a step when Jacob took one forward, the growl in the other's throat far more threatening than just the look in his eyes.

_"_I _never had a chance," _Jacob explained in a bark, although Quil clearly saw the hope that Beta had had in his leaving - that his once precious Bella would see the pain he had endured, realize her adoration for him, and leave that bastard bloodsucker to burn like the monster he was in the midday sun. (Because, claim or no claim, sparkle or no sparkle, that disappearing act was something he'd never forgive the Cullen for.) _"You juss have to wait a couple of years, that's _nothing _compared to eternity. Suck it up, Quil. So you can't spend every waking moment with the kid, get the hell over it." _

_"And when she gets hurt?" _Quil yelled, _"Whose going to protect her?"_

"_She'll protect herself." _

There was such faith in his tone, such resolve that it was untouchable, unable to be argued, unable to be denied. The anger that Quil had felt towards Sam vanished in moments and was swiftly replaced with something deeper, more profound, something that Jacob himself could connect with, could sympathize.

He answered the question before Quil had time to think it.

_"Then you'll do what's best and give up on being some kind of knight in shining fur. You'll let her go."_

Quil's closed his eyes.

_"It ain't easy bein' a shadow," _Jacob said, his voice soft, _"But you do what ya gotta do to know that she's safe without steppin' on nobody's toes."_

_"Shadow?" _the boy questioned, his tone even.

_"Yah," _he heard the mirth in the other's tone, _"But like a night shadow. You're there, but never seen. It's tricky, but easy once you get the hang of it." _

"_For eleven years?" _

_"Eleven years," _Jacob repeated.

The limp home wasn't an easy one, and with every step Quil took towards La Push he felt himself pulled back to that bay window, to her bedside, to her heart - so oblivious to the love that echoed in every molecule of Quil's body.

But Jacob kept him in check, pressing his nose against the wolf's shoulder every time he began to stray from the path back to his home, his real home, with his parents and unmade bed, with nothing but memories to motivate him to wake in the morning.

It would be years before he could again be in her life so openly. But even then, she may not want him, she may find another to give her heart to, even when she carried his.

The pieces of the promise Sam had made followed him, like bouncing little reminders, at his heels, and the shock and discomfort that came with their being made him shy away from thinking that impossible thought, that premature, but realistic notion…

_What if another man stole her heart before he even had the chance? _


	2. Unspoken but not Unheard

**Disclaimer**: Stephenie Meyer owns all respected characters and plotlines.

Authors Note: I'm not a big fan of the beginning of this chapter.

But hopefully you'll enjoy it.

I also apologize for the wait, work's been a bitch and my lack of inspiration hasn't helped much either.

Also, this chapter NEVER ended. Ever. Really.

I also gave up proof reading, I've read this thing so many times I'm sick of it, so please forgive any and all mistakes.

* * *

"You smiled at me from the distance,

And we felt there's more to share."

-- Silent Scream by Cinema Bizarre

* * *

The Midnight Bell

Chapter Two - Unspoken but not Unheard

**The Seventh Year**

Claire sang softly to the teddy in her arms, cradling it to her chest like a baby as she walked along the shoreline, swaying softly in her steps as her skirt whipped against her knees and her auburn hair flew around her face. She watched the skyline with narrowed eyes, pouting at the darkening horizon and sending out a single mental wish to the sky, keeping the syllables close to her girlish heart, promising to never speak them aloud.

Despite the dark clouds that cast the sky into grayness, the bonfire was still on for tonight.

The girl couldn't say that she was pleased, stepping diagonally, wading deeper into the water, the cold rushing ocean lapping at her calves. Although Kota Deloria would be there it didn't make up for the fact he would be with snobby older sister Kimi, who made it her job to see that Claire had not a moment of peace, ever.

Kota was pretty in a band-boy way, even with his copper skin and big nose. He had yellow in his eyes, warmer brown hues dancing and freckling around his black pupils. Kota seemed to have liquid irises, seeing as the three times Claire managed to find the guts to meet his gaze for longer than a second, the color seemed to smile at her and swirl.

The movement in his irises could have very well been just a trick of her eyes, seeing as every drop of blood in her body would rush up her neck and into her head, making her turn so red it she was nearly purple, even with her tan skin. She'd always duck down before really, **truly **looking at him.

Either way, Claire sighed loudly, her breath coming out as a 'pffffft' through her nearly pursed lips, it was unlikely that Kota would disobey his sister and actually be nice to her for once. She wished for a long moment that he would, so she could finally see something more than just the side of his mouth when he smiled and she sneaked a glance at him during class, so she could meet his gaze without the weight of Kimi's unreasoned hatred for her in the back of her mind. (And shyness would be the only issue.) The wish she had made to the sky resurfaced in her mind and cooed softly to her.

One day, it seemed to promise, one day the girl would leave her alone.

There was yelling over Claire's shoulder, loud laughter and howling that started off faint but grew in intensity. The teenagers of La Push had never bothered her - she pinned their semi-deep bellows, hyena laughs and slurred tones as being part of the age group - Uncle Sam's friends had made her less sensitive to boyish screams and outlandish remarks, but the group of loud voices irritated her now, as she stood still in the ocean, her toes numb.

"CAN'T YOU BE QUIET?" Claire yelled over her shoulder, flaring her nostrils and glaring back at the group of six or so boys, all looking alike in their lanky build and dark, short-cropped hair. They were circled around the pit where the ashes from last month's bonfire still sat, vacant and gray. They had a pile nearly Claire's height of driftwood and tree branches next to them, and when the girl had spoken, they had paused in their loud busy-work of throwing pieces over the ashes.

"Oh, it's just Claire," one muttered, loud enough that the girl could hear. She wondered how they knew her name, she didn't recognize any of them.

"If we're too loud, you're too young!" another retorted before a chorus of "OHHHHS" and barking laughter ensued.

"Go home to yer mommy."

"Yeah, go home."

Soon they were all chanting it, making Claire feel self-conscious and pressured. Taking large steps, the girl angrily stepped out from the ocean, hoisting teddy over her shoulder, her forearm pulled beneath it's butt against her collarbone.

"You go away!" Claire yelled again, inching closer with every footfall she took forward, keeping that angry look on her face.

"Go away? When we're the life of this par-tay?" the one to the far left laughed in question. "Lighten up, little girl. You're way too _stressed_."

Claire didn't like the way that final word rolled off of his tongue, so knowingly yet so sarcastically. It hadn't been her fault that they'd broken her silence, broken her concentration, her mind-wandering. She had every right to be angry with their big, loud, ugly voices and tall bodies.

The girl snorted, stopping a few feet shy of those lovely, exposed shins she wanted to kick.

"What is it Claire? Too scared?" the one on the far left inquired meanly.

"Yeah, girly, you afraid?" another asked.

"Ha, she's afraid guys," another observed cheekily.

"Just go home, Claire. Little girls don't belong at the bonfire."

"Yeah, and look at her teddy! She's what? Ten!? And still has that thing?"

The roaring laughter that was louder, for a moment, than the ocean was silenced by the sound of skin hitting skin, or bone hitting bone. Claire couldn't decide, with that smile that engulfed her face.

"Why don't you try shutting you and your friends up?" Sam asked, with a questioning look on his beautifully familiar face. He brought his hand back down to his side, his lips not even twitching a little bit as the gang-leader - the one to the far left, clutched the back of his head, crying with pain and spinning stupidly around in tiny ballerina circles. Claire was giggling up a storm.

"Leave my girl alone and get back to getting ready for the fire tonight." Sam eyed the group and their suddenly blank expressions. "_Got it_?"

They all nodded in unison.

"Good."

Sam smiled in Claire's direction as he paced down the remaining stretch of sand-bed between them.

It took Claire until the sun was only a sliver of pink-purple on the horizon to convince her uncle that she hadn't been the one to start the fight.

But it took Claire until the sun had fallen completely away from the sky, casting the beach into semi-darkness, and the boys' hooted as the first flames of the bonfire erupted into life, to convince_ herself _that the boys hadn't been correct in their teasing.

_She did belong here, didn't she?_

HR

It was only nine o'clock when Kimi began her hostile take-over of any joy Claire had felt before that moment.

The girl had noticed the blond before she had noticed Claire. So, it was only natural that Claire would take those precious moments before being spotted to hide herself, next to the refreshments table, well, not exactly next… more like _under_.

The sand beneath her knees kept her silent as she watched some sandaled, but mostly barefoot pairs of feet pass her sanctuary. Everyone from La Push was attending the bonfire, even the older ones, who peddled through the sand with canes and Bermuda shorts, savoring the last evenings of summer before winter blew in and brought those endless weeks of rain. She watched painted toes, hairy toes, and just ugly toes canter by, some pausing at her place, but mostly passing.

She exhaled, feeling the anxiety Kimi brought simply with her presence wade through her fingers and knees and into the sand itching her skin. Maybe Momma Deloria had preferred only a look of the fire this month, school _was _starting soon.

Feeling it was safe, Claire army crawled her away out from under her sanctuary, careful to peek out from beneath the tablecloth before muscling her complete way out, into the open. She looked both ways, seeing no one looking even remotely dangerous, before hoisting herself to her feet, stretching her arms upward in a gleeful punch to the sky.

Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad!

However, the sudden smell of vanilla and the wisp of blond-hair that she caught from the side of her vision made her rethink that previous statement in its entirety.

"Oh, you're all sandy," Kimi's voice was more annoying than Claire remembered. "What were you doing? Digging yourself a hole to sit in? That's so like you, Claire."

The girl turned her head and glared at the blond with all the intensity in the body. But the eleven-year-old seemed unchanged by the spark in Claire's eyes, seeing as she only shifted her weight into her left, skirt covered hip and placed her free fist - the other occupied with a blue-plastic cup - on her waist.

"I'm just telling you the truth," the girl scolded, clearly offended. "You're covered in it, it's gross." She grinned, evilly. "There's some sand on your cheek, let me get it off for you?"

Before the younger girl had time to answer, the blond had splashed the liquid in her cup in the direction of the girl's cheek.

"Knock if off, Kimi!" Claire screeched, wiping what smelled like lemonade off of her face with her fingers, thankful she had closed her eyes before the liquid had had time to eat like acid at her cornea's. She scowled, hair falling cover her face in an ugly, nearly mad-looking fashion, while Kimi just threw her blond-haired head back in laughter.

"Oh, Clair-ree, now you're all wet. Poor thing." The girl teased before questioning with a smirk. "Let me help you wash it off too?"

Kimi paced the length between them, with no regard for Claire's answer, and grabbed the girl by her shoulder, digging pink-polished nail into her collarbone. The blond began dragging her away from the fire, away from the group, away from safety. Towards the black ocean, an abyss.

Claire suddenly couldn't hear anything.

All she heard was the pound of her pulse in her ears, oddly slow for the way her mind raced, so quickly all she could comprehend was a blur of color over her vision, the feeling of water go over her head, and the taste of salt and fish. She had wanted to scream, she had wanted to breathe in, but there was pressure in her lungs, now a voice in her head, screaming, "_Fight for me, fight for me_."

She felt the pressure be removed from the back of her head, and felt herself be lifted up, so high.

In the blurry mess of darkness and spots in her vision, she managed to meet the gaze of a pair of eyes.

She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath, but now, as those eyes glanced so deep within her she felt them burning in her core, examining her secret fascination for story-book fairytales and laughing at her desire to be something more than just Claire the girl, she did. Those eyes made her gasp out in breath - squinting her eyes shut in pain. They made her cough up the sea, and made her cling the form, so insanely warm it encompassed her entire body, with complete disregard for what or who the being was. She didn't care. This creature may have been a stranger, but it was so familiar, like a sand-covered memory.

And those eyes, she had recognized them.

They were **Kota's**.

"_Claire-bear_," the voice came from above her head, the first thing she heard since she had gone temporarily deaf. She felt a vibration within the hotness next to her cheek, felt the raspy soreness in her chest, and attempted to control the shaking in her limbs. She was soaked, but hardly freezing. "Claire, Claire. _Baby_, you okay?"

Her heart thumped against her ribcage, so loudly she was sure Kota's eyes could hear it. His voice was so deep, so familiar, it sent every one of her senses on overdrive, her memory into frantic recollection. She wanted to remember where she had heard him before, why she felt a ball of joy just explode in her stomach simply because he had spoken - that being with Kota's eyes.

She pulled her cheek away from the warmness, suddenly feeling sweet-smelling breath on her face.

She looked up.

Kota's face didn't greet her although his eyes did. Rounded boyish cheeks and his fat nose was replaced by the features of an older man, not old like Uncle Sam, but more like the teenagers who had poked fun at her earlier that day. He had a soft face, despite his angular jaw, and had longer hair, like Jacob, with a side bang that swooped across his forehead and grazed the long lashes of left eye. The intensity of those liquid irises seemed to be set off by the moonlight, making them churn and ripple like the ocean.

_The ocean_.

She remembered clearly now, the veil of shock dropping away from her mind. Kimi had pulled her into shoulder-deep water, laughing before placing a hand on the back of her head and dunking her under. It had been a joke, a foolish play on words. "Let me help you wash it off," had not meant as she had made it sound.

Fear encompassed her heart and the girl began to tremble even harder when she whispered, "D-Did I-I-I dr-rown-n?"

The skin between the man's brows knitted and she swore she saw moisture shine oddly in his eyes when he spoke.

"No, Claire, you didn't drown." His deep voice cracked." _I saved you_."

He seemed genuine, frightening truth ringing in his tone, an underlining meaning to his confession. She felt him tremble against her. He was as scared as she was. God, she could have _died_.

It wasn't until she began sobbing and pressed herself flush with the man who had saved her that Claire realized her arms had already been pulled tight around his neck, and that her legs were wound around his sides, knees at his waist.

And it wasn't until she felt hands on her hips and felt herself be jerked back away the man with Kota's eyes, that she realized she had been hanging onto him with every ounce of strength in her body. She was still sobbing when the warmth was replaced by cold, sea air. She was still shaking when Aunt Emily ushered her from the high place with the man and down onto her feet in the sand, the woman pressing the girl's face to her chest.

Claire was _still_ trying to remember where she had heard his voice before when Uncle Sam started to yell, so loudly in echoed past the tide.

"Get OUT of here!"

"She almost DROWNED!" the statement was hissed by the man with Kota's eyes, she could tell.

"I've warned you. DON'T INTERFEAR."

"So when she's about to die I'm just supposed to sit on the sidelines and watch her, like it's some God damn movie?"

"We had it covered," Uncle Sam's tone was a rumble in his chest. Aunt Emily's frantic voice and repeated question (was she okay?) made Claire dizzy, and the laugh that seemed to boom through the coastline made butterflies explode into life in the girl's stomach, making her feel even more woozy.

"Yeah, covered. That's _exactly _what you had, Sam." There was a tinge of mirth in his tone. "You were tossing back a beer with Jacob when that little _witch _pulled Claire down here. You wouldn't have even know had Seth not ran his scrawny ass up the beach to tell you. And even then would you have tried to save her? Do you even fucking - "

There was a soft scuffle behind her, then silence.

Claire reeled away from Aunt Emily - fighting the arm pulled over her shoulders - and swiveled her wet body backwards, wanting to know why they had stopped talking so suddenly. She saw only the shadow of two bodies and the starlight skyline before her Aunt had a death grip on her opposite shoulder, whipping her around to face her again. She pulled Claire to her, smushing her face to her chest again and placed a tentative hand on the back of Claire's head, holding the fighting girl tight with her stronger arm gripped over her shoulder blades.

"Not for your eyes, sweetheart," Aunt Emily whispered. Claire only fought harder, continuing to feel a strange nauseousness in her chest and throat.

"You're going to turn around and go home," Uncle Sam was whispering loudly, in a deep, echoed tone that Claire didn't recognize. "You're going to go home and _stay away_."

What? Stay away!? It didn't seem right or fair. He had _saved _her hadn't he? If anything he deserved a hug!

"UNCLE SAM STOP BEING SO MEAN!" Claire yelled, her voice muffled against her aunt's top, trying to turn her head and scream more fiercely. Tiny as she was, Aunt Emily had strength to her frame, and despite the way the girl twisted and thrashed, still slippery from the ocean, the woman's hands didn't budge and Claire's face remained against her chest, keeping the girl's eyes averted from the scene that she was seemingly only allowed to hear.

There was a muffled grunt, a curse thrown into the wind, and Aunt Emily tensed up, her entire body becoming rigid making Claire all the more curious. She twisted again, kicking at Aunt Emily's shins, but the woman didn't budge, she remained still, wrists locking against the girl's back and she trembled softly when she inhaled deeply.

"Get out of here. Or, _I swear_, I'll kill you myself."

Kill? _Kill_?!

"Uncle Sam! He saved me! He saved me!" Claire was screaming the man's defense, still trying to fight Aunt Emily as the woman fought to pull her away, back up the beach, to the bonfire, to Kimi, to Kota, to the boys', her extended family…

She wanted nothing to do anything with any of them.

The man with Kota's eyes, he seemed so different than anyone she had ever met before. He had called her baby, Claire-bear, nicknames that struck singing chords in her heart, making her feel somehow connected to him. She wouldn't forgive Uncle Sam if he did something rash because he didn't understand. The man had saved her, not hurt her. He didn't have to go anywhere, he hadn't done anything wrong. In all her fairytale books the evil characters had gotten banished from their lands or destroyed because they tried to hurt the princess, because they were envious, tricksters. This man with Kota's eyes - he wasn't bad at all.

"Claire, come on," Aunt Emily grunted, in her nicest voice, pulling at the squirming girl.

No. She wasn't going anywhere. She was staying on this beach until Uncle Sam stopped yelling, until everyone understood, until she remembered where she had heard that man's voice before. They were going to listen to her, and they were going to like it.

Somehow, in her struggle, Claire had managed to turn her head away from Aunt Emily's chest, and her mouth was pressed against the inside of her upper arm, making Claire's panted breath whistle against the woman's skin when she inhaled. Frantic to get away, Claire bared her teeth and chomped down on the flesh, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to…

When Aunt Emily shouted her hold faltered, long enough for Claire to twist out of grip. She spun, tendrils of matted, salt-soaked hair smacking her in the mouth, nose, and back, and she raised her chin to gaze towards the scene she had only heard.

"**UNCLE SAM**!"

Suddenly, she was running, vision blurring as she raced the few yards between she and her uncle. Anger and fear intertwined in her veins, shooting shots of adrenaline down to her toes and fingers, making her feel like she was cutting through the air, through space, whizzing, flying.

Uncle Sam had been holding the man with Kota's eyes by the throat at arms length, his brows furrowed shadowing his eyes in black.

Claire knocked into her uncle's side using her palms to push him sideways before pressing her weight into him. She expected to send him reeling, his hand retreating from the man's neck before he'd tip-hard into the sand. However, Uncle Sam didn't fall, he didn't even flinch, he simply kept his gaze forward, his jaw tight, even as Claire punched at his side, shouldered between them and pulled his arm, and screamed with tears in her eyes.

"LET HIM GO!" she screeched again, for the seemingly tenth time in a matter of a second. "LET HIM GO HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

In the middle of her attempts to place hand-print bruises on Uncle Sam's chest, there were hands on her again, big hands that pulled at her shoulders and yanked her away from her uncle and man with Kota's eyes. Had it not been for the earthy, soft smell that encompassed the air she struggled to take in, she wouldn't have known it was Jacob.

"NO, NO!" she was yelling again, fighting against her captor as he locked her arms behind her tailbone, intertwining his hands with hers to keep her from scratching at him. With her back pressed against his belly Claire's backward kicks had little effect on the knees she tried so hard to break.

"LET ME GO!" her tone was clearly raspy now, and she began trembling again, adrenaline wearing off. Jacob was cooing soft words to her, she felt his lips on the top of her head, syllables she didn't understand but made her less frantic, less angry, less hostile. She watched with wide eyes as Uncle Sam released the man with Kota's eyes, growling deep in his chest, as the other brought an instant palm to soothe the dark mark that shined in the moonlight on his throat.

"_Get out of here_," Claire swore she saw colored mist leave Uncle Sam's mouth the moment his unnatural voice did, mist that expanded in the air and twisted around the other man's limbs delicately. When the girl blinked, it was gone.

"Uncle Sam," the girl pleaded, softly this time, lying limp against Jacob, exhausted. Her head rolled back against her captors chest when she leveled her eyes to meet Kota's. He was staring directly at her, hand still at his throat. His gaze was monotone, unreadable. "He doesn't have to go anywhere. He's…"

"That's enough, Claire," Jacob whispered, releasing her arms from behind her back and spinning her around to face him. Her limbs feeling like jelly, she did not argue or protest when he picked her up, pulling his forearm beneath her bottom just below the level of his waist as she leaned into him, head pivoted oddly, ear on his shoulder, straining the outside of her neck.

Weakly, her arms half-encircled his chest.

Everything was hazy, Claire couldn't think straight anymore. Why did the ocean have to crash so loud? Why did she hear that voice in her head again, so familiar… like a lullaby….?

"Keep her _safe_," the voice was whispering in her head, like it had when she'd been underwater. "Another mess-up, and I'll rip both of you to pieces."

Claire felt the slight rumble of a laugh in Jacob's chest and didn't understand. The voice was only in _her_ head, right?

"Of course, Quil," he spoke, so softly Claire almost didn't hear it.

She couldn't keep her eyes open, she couldn't keep her mind on, it hurt too much. She was so, so very tired, and even when she was jostled against Jacob when he began to move, his steps swaying his entire body, it didn't make her anymore awake. Her chest was against Jacob's now, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, she opened her eyes as much as she could.

She watched through the haze of her exhaustion as Uncle Sam shoved the man with Kota's eyes with a hand to the front of his left shoulder, causing him to fall back a couple of steps. That name Jacob had said, it suited him, she realized that now as she watched him move, watching him square his chest as his form shook. He didn't seem pleased, his stance was too stiff to have taken that push as playful.

Her eyelids fluttered shut.

No, she didn't want to forget him. She wanted to see what happened. She wanted to know why he looked so upset. Was Uncle Sam really making him go? Making him disappear? Forever?

The thought made Claire's heart hurt.

When she managed to pry her eyes open again she much farther away from the shore, she could hear the guests of the bonfire laughing and chanting and speaking so loudly their tones echoed harshly in her head. They were up past the dunes, past the old sight for the fire. She hadn't realized Kimi had pulled her so far down the shoreline. The time it had taken had seemed so much shorter, that what it must have taken.

But there they were, Uncle Sam and Quil, their shadows making their bodies seem bigger than they were from this distance. The moonlight between them vanished when their shadows intertwined, then moonlight flowed between them when the shadows separated, only to be smutted out again when they came together again. It was like a dance, that violently twisted and turned until the darkness on the right, the shadow belonging to Quil, suddenly grew enormous in size.

Her eyelids fluttered closed again.

No, _no_, she needed to understand.

But she was so tired, she felt someone pulling at her leg, mutely heard a frantic, young voice, Momma Deloria's scolding.

"Is she dead? Is she dead? I didn't mean to kill her, honest!"

Sobs ensued.

"Kids will be kids, won't they?" the laugh was uneasy, clearly Momma Deloria.

Words were spinning out of control but Claire's breath came out at an even tone. Jacob was saying that she was all right, no need to worry, and he was running his hand down her upper back, soothing her.

It didn't make her feel any better, her stomach tensing when she thought of how big Quil's shadow had gotten. Had something happened? Was he sick? Is that why Uncle Sam hadn't wanted him to stay?

When she opened her eyes again she wasn't facing the shore anymore, but rather the bonfire that pairs and groups of people stood by. She hadn't remembered seeing a fire that big before, it was taller than Uncle Sam, or even Jacob, and nearly just as wide. Red and yellow danced and twirled, reminding her of the shadows of her uncle and that man with Kota's eyes.

She moved her gaze from the flames and downward, to a voice that was calling to her from way below her place at Jacob's shoulder.

She recognized him immediately, but was turned-off by how small he seemed. Kota Deloria had always had a good five inches on Claire's height, and it was odd how she now had a good five _feet _on him. His nose was still too big for his face, she noted mentally, even at this angle. For some reason she couldn't name, the girl had absolutely no problem meeting the boy's gaze as his lips moved in words she couldn't hear, she didn't even feel her cheeks heat up when their pupils met, and they stared.

Perhaps the shock of the nights events made her more prone to illusions and tricks of the mind, but even as her heavy-lids widened and she gazed more closely at the boy who she had crushed on since kindergarten, she couldn't deny the truth staring her, quite literally, in the face.

Kota's irises, they didn't dance or smile at her, they weren't liquid, or yellow, or freckled. They were a mahogany shade, that gleamed like slate in the reflection of the fire.

"I said, "Are you okay, Claire?" Kota asked - his voice so soft compared to the deep, smooth tone of the man she had thought had his eyes - even though the boy was yelling. She realized she hadn't answered when he spoke up again, crinkling his nose, "Claire? Why are you staring at me?"

She was just… so tired.

She swore she heard a howl before her eyelids drifted closed and blackness consumed her thoughts.

And his voice, Quil's voice, was all she heard in her dreams.

* * *

AN: I tried _really _hard for intensity during the final, never-ending scene. I hope it worked. Also, it's not that Claire doesn't remember Quil, it's just that she's forgotten him. It may be a bit unrealistic, but I need to bend some things to keep the story going. The eyes thing will be explained next chapter, no worries. Review? Please?

**Updated** - September 1st: Fixed missing words and strange wording, it was making me mad.


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